Whom Do You Believe In A Situation Like This?
by shaemichelle
Summary: When an old friend returns to his life, Fraser must decide to believe the evidence or his heart.
1. Chapter 1

**(Disclaimer: due South belongs to its creators, distributors, and other people/investors/companies affiliated with it and it's original/secondary airings. No profit is made from this story, no infringement is intended.)**

* * *

"Old friend of Fraser's, huh?" Ray said, looking at the Canadian leaning on the bus bench outside the Consulate. The man turned, looking at Ray where he leaned on his car. The man was very blond, with stunningly dark eyes that smiled in a very Canadian way. A leather and canvas backpack had a Canadian flag sewn on the back and was settled by the man's sneaker-covered feet. He wore a pair of faded, dirt-stained jeans and a simple white tee-shirt, one that had seen as much wear as the rest of his things.

"Yes, I am. How did you know?" the man asked. Ray straightened up off the Rivera, moving to shake the man's hand.

"Fraser's been talking about your visit the past few days," he explained, noting a surprisingly firm handshake from the other man. He also noticed a strange edge of a tattoo on the back of his neck, only a bit of black and red showing as the rest dipped below his tee. "I'm Ray Vecchio, Chicago PD. I work with Fraser."

"I suppose I should introduce myself, eh?" the man laughed. "Jakob MacCrae. I thought Fraser worked liaison here at the Consulate?" Ray nodded, looking at Fraser as he stood sentry under the hot sun.

"Yeah, but his boss hates him, so he mostly stands sentry as punishment for an unknown crime against her," Ray explained, leaning on the bench next to Jakob. The other man glanced at the nearby clock tower before fanning his face dramatically with a hand.

"Little hot for it, don't you think? It's gotta be above thirty today," Jakob complained. Ray assumed the man was speaking Canadian, and "above thirty" meant hot. How long does he stand there?"

"I dunno when he starts, but he gets off at six," Ray said. "How long you here for? Why you visiting?"

"Felt like coming to Chicago, and I heard that Ben's been working here since his dad died, so I figured I stay with him. Besides, I've got some business to be working out here anyway, could be a day, two weeks," Jakob said with a shrug. "How'd you two meet? It seems he doesn't do real liaison work."

"When he first came here, I was assigned to his dad's murder," Ray said, the memory digging up the callousness he'd displayed to the recently bereaved son upon meeting him. "And, uh, he's a weird guy, but I hang around."

"Does he still lick everything as a form of investigation?" Jakob asked. Ray nodded, earning another bright and chirpy laugh from the blond man. "Terrible, I lived with him in Moosejaw, and helped him with some stuff there. Licked, smelled, deconstructed and dissolved evidence, everything. Nasty behaviour."

"You RCMP?" Ray asked.

"No, not in a million years would I be police, not RCMP, not OPP, nothin'," he answered. The bells of the clock tower gonged and Fraser released his tableau, bursting into a happy smile and moving to Jakob. Jakob pushed off the bench, meeting Fraser halfway between the bench and the wall of the Consulate. Fraser pulled his taller friend into a hug, Jakob laughing for no reason but joy of seeing his friend again. They let go a moment later, but Jakob gripped the nape of Fraser's neck, whispering something Ray couldn't hear. The energy between the two men and the feeling of the grip Jakob held made Ray feel he was intruding on something very intimate, very soft. He looked away until it was over.

"How've you been?" Fraser asked when he was released. Jakob nodded and shrugged.

"Been alright, I suppose. Been busy," he said. "When you left Moosejaw, I moved down to Calgary. My sister lived there while she was in university and she told great stories about the bar scene."

"Well, I'm certain Ray can tell you much more than I can about the bar scene here in Chicago than I can," Fraser offered. Ray nodded.

"Yeah, simple rules, really. Stay out of Fraser's neighbourhood and you should be fine," he said.

"What's wrong with Ben's neighbourhood?" Jakob asked.

"He lives in a slum," Ray said. Jakob gave chortle, turning to a mildly embarrassed Fraser.

"Still? Does your apartment have a door this time round?"

"Yeah, but no locks," Ray orated. "Someone stole them."

"His apartment in Moosejaw didn't have a door for the first week he lived there," Jakob shared, as Fraser began blushing. "Finally, I moved in an' bought one, damn good one too. Guess it's good I know a cop out keep an eye out for me, if I'm trusting his security, eh?"

"Well, any friend of Fraser's is a friend of mine," Ray said. "If his neighbourhood isn't set for you, then feel free to call me up. We got a guest room at my house. You guys need a ride?"

"Sure, Ray," Fraser agreed. Ray rounded the car as Fraser climbed in the back and Jakob climbed in the front after Dief hopped in.

"Was that dog under the bench the whole time?" Jakob asked, smiling as Dief inspected his ear with a tongue.

"He's a wolf actually," Fraser said. "His name's Diefenbaker. He's saved my life several times."

"Just like me," Jakob laughed, giving the wolf a rub. "How many times you saved Ben, Detective?" Ray shrugged as he passed thru an intersection.

"A few times," he admitted.

"That was a stop sign, Ray," Fraser commented from the backseat. Jakob laughed again.

"You're lucky we're not in Canada," Jakob told Ray. "He's arrested me for speeding before."

"You were doing one hundred five in a sixty, next to a school no less," Fraser said, unrepentant. Ray looked at Fraser in the rearview mirror.

"At night!" Jakob cried, turning against his seatbelt to joking glare at Fraser. "It was nearly three, there were no school children about!"

"There's no time limit on the law, Jakob," Fraser said with a reluctant smile.

"You knew it was his car and you pulled him over anyway?" Ray asked.

"He was in the passenger seat," Jakob corrected. "Think they'd let him drive an cop car? He didn't learn to drive a car till he was twenty six, and he's still terrible at it, I'd reckon."

"I warned him I'd do it if he didn't slow down," Fraser defended. "And as far as my driving skills or lack thereof, I've never really needed to drive. I've always been in an environment where snowmobiles, horses or dog sled was an easier form of transportation. It wasn't until I moved here that I was in a car consistently," Fraser said. "Even now, Ray drives me and it's always to locations within walking distance in any case."

"Yeah, but three hundred kilometers is walking distance to you, Ben. He doesn't know how to ride a bike either," Jakob said. Ray laughed as he turned left semi-legally onto Racine.

"My grandfather felt bikes were frivolous," Fraser muttered halfheartedly. Dief growled. "Well, you'd be right, he did allow me to play hockey, but a career can come of hockey. Not so of mountain biking, he felt… Ray, pull over."

"Why?" Ray asked, scanning the sidewalk for petty crime. He slowed and pulled over next to a space empty by fire hydrant.

"Mugger, in the alley," he replied. "Jakob, if you'd be so kind as to allow me to exit—"

"Oh, right, go get 'em," Jakob said, hopping out of the car. Fraser climbed out quickly, taking off like a shot with his wolf behind him. Ray took off after him, slamming the door to his Riv. Jakob, not one to be left behind on unfamiliar streets, followed suit. A metallic bang of a dumpster sounded, a woman's scream, Dief barking.

As Ray rounded to corner, he saw a young brunette girl crying as Fraser asked her again if she was alright. The mugger lay on the ground, hands up in surrender, Dief standing with his front paws on his chest.

"That was quick," Jakob remarked, slowing his pace to mace Ray's as they walked down the alley. "He's gotten better."

Ray didn't respond as he pushed Dief off the mugger, a man. He rolled the man onto his back and placed him in handcuffs, reciting his rights automatically.

"You're certain you're alright, miss?" Fraser asked once more.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said shakily. "He didn't get my wallet or anything, so I'm fine." As Fraser helped her up from her position on the ground, she thanked him once more.

"Jeez, Ben, you're bleeding!" Jakob cried from behind Ray. Ray looked more closely at Fraser–his face bore a deep slash above and parallel with his left brow, enough blood to drip off his face.

"OK, lemme take these two to the station, then I'll take you to Emerge to get that stitched," Ray said, pulling the perp towards the street. The young girl panicked slightly at his words.

"Downtown? Why? I didn't do anything to get arrested for!" she protested.

"We just need your official statement, miss," Fraser assured her. "Chicago Hope is only a few blocks from here, we'll meet you, Ray. You don't have enough seat belts for all of us."

*

Ray sat with Jakob in the waiting room of Emerge, both men watching Fraser thru the glass sliding door of the exam room. Three gorgeous nurses were fussing over his stitches, and Fraser was getting more and more flustered. He tossed Ray a glance for help, but Ray thought it was too funny to see a hapless man being flirted with by several beautiful women.

"Was he always this way with women?" Ray asked Jakob.

"You mean they always fell head over heels upon seeing him?" Jakob asked. "Yes, it's always been like that." Ray snorted.

"You'd think he'd know by now how to deal with them, you know? Flirt back or head them off," Ray said. "Instead, he just acts kind until they begin flirting, then he gets all cryptic—" Ray added sarcastic air-quotes, earning a snort from Jakob "—and awkward and they want him more."

"He used to know how to do it," Jakob remarked. "He… He wasn't a ladies' man, but he was smooth and none of the women felt slighted when he turned them away. It was almost like he was asexual, eh? You could barely tell he looked after women if you knew him real good. If you knew what to watch for." Ray thought back on it, and it was true. He almost never caught Fraser staring at pretty girls or flirting. In fact, most of the time Fraser would say something like, _I know she's delightful, Ray, but the fact remains that it is rude to stare unbidden at female curves, lovely as they are_, to reveal an attraction at all.

"What happened?" Ray asked, only half surprised. He'd gotten very used to the idea that one of the Mountie's few weaknesses was women, and to hear that that wasn't always the case surprised him in that regard. A floundering Fraser had always been his picture of his friend. To have it shattered at all was surprising. The other part of him wasn't surprised. Superman could turn away hordes of adoring women without making them angry? It figured. The only man to perfect that act would be Benny Fraser.

"He fell for one of the women, and she fucked him up good. I never met her, I never heard the whole story from Ben, but I heard some of it from him, bare details mostly," Jakob murmured. Ray shifted closer, feeling like he was in on a huge conspiracy as he talked of Fraser behind his back.

"Do you mean Victoria?" Ray asked. Jakob snapped his gaze from Fraser's women to look, shocked, at Ray.

"You know about her?"

"She came down here and framed Benny for murder," Ray answered. "She got away tho. We didn't get to arrest her."

"So it's true she did a bank job in Alaska?" Jakob asked. "And he turned her in?"

"Yeah," Ray replied shortly.

"I didn't know what happened straight from his lips, but I knew him before and after it happened with Victoria," Jakob said as Fraser tried to escape the exam room. "And he doesn't know how much it changed him, I don't think."

Ray nodded, thinking about it. It made sense. Victoria betrayed him and broke his heart so badly. Ray didn't think he would be able to get over such a blow. More than that, he had been able to see Fraser suffering, seen his toiling emotions not-so-hidden behind his usually perfect exterior. Fraser stumbled out into the hallway, red in the face, one bold blonde nurse following him.

"You know, Detective Vecchio," she purred, latching onto Fraser's surge-clad arm. "He sustained quite the blow to the head, maybe we should keep him… overnight for observation." Fraser fiddled with his Stetson, demurring quietly that he was fine. "I just don't know, Constable. It's quite the cut. Do you have someone at home to take care of you? Girlfriend? Wife?"

"Well, no, but my friend here—" he began, trying to pull away politely. The nurse's dark eyes widened in dramatic surprise.

"Really? Imagine that! At the very least, give me your number so you can call me if you need anything," she said, tugging his lanyard lightly. "And I mean anything." Ray's eyebrows rose, surprised at the forwardness of this nurse, and Jakob coughed to hide a laugh. Shocked as well, Fraser looked with panicked blue eyes from Jakob to Ray for help, then explained he didn't have a phone and wouldn't be alone tonight in any case. Finally, Ray stepped in and peeled the vixen off the Mountie (who was as red as his serge), dragging him to the car.


	2. Chapter 2

**(Disclaimer: due South belongs to its creators, distributors, and other people/investors/companies affiliated with it and it's original/secondary airings. No profit is made from this story, no infringement is intended.)**

* * *

"Ray, can you respond to a homicide call on West Racine?" Elaine asked over the radio. Ray had just finished up with a small robbery and was on his way to the station to finish up the processing. He grabbed his radio.

"Sure thing, Elaine," he said. "Details?"

"Kind of sketchy right now, but there're three witnesses waiting with uniformed officers at the scene, and Mort has the body now," she answered. Ray wondered dimly why when he'd pictured himself as a cop when he was young, why he never saw himself not fazed by the fact a life had been taken, why he'd never seen himself caring for "figuring it out" over delivering justice. He'd only ever pictured himself as a hero and that didn't even matter anymore.

"Address?" he asked as he began heading over to Fraser's neighbourhood. He hated whenever he heard of a crime or murder happening there—it made him feel like it was a matter of time before it was Fraser being stabbed in the stairwell of his apartment trying to take out his laundry. At least his Canadian friend seemed to be looking out for him now. Jakob had been living in Fraser's apartment for nearly a month now and it seemed the man might be staying all summer.

She gave him the address of the billiards store across from Fraser's apartment. He sighed after confirming he was on the way. Pulling over in the spot in front of Fraser's building that had become "his spot" (it was always open when he was visiting), he climbed out of the Riv and crossed the street. He surveyed the scene—two police cars parked in front of the building, a window broken on the store. He entered the building after flashing his badge at the uniform at the door. A bloodstain rested on worn green felt on one of the secondhand tables, staining the table's wood and then the floor.

"Shot was fired into one of the patrons, he fell back against the table then hit the ground," a uniformed officer said. Ray nodded, looking over to the three people sitting at the bar with another officer, who was taking notes on the hurried speech of a panicked young woman.

"Well, you have three witnesses who saw the shooting, you have an ID on the body, what do you need me for?"

"The shooter was wearing a mask, they didn't see his face. From what they did see, we have a white male with a black and red tattoo on the back of his neck. He came in and pushed the victim, taking the man's gun from him when he tried to shoot his attacker. But the shooter fired his own gun, shot the victim three times then ran out the back door. We've got two guys searching the alley for anything," the officer said. "We're gonna take these witnesses downtown for official statements."

"Good. I'll look around here, see if I can find anything," Ray said. "Who got shot?"

"Um," the officer responded, pulling out his note pad. "Guy from Alberta, named Matt Lewis. Aged thirty five."

"From Alberta?" Ray asked, surprised.

"Unless he has a fake driver's license on him, yeah, Alberta boy," the officer said. "We'll run his license and see if it's legit."

"Check border records, see if he crossed over legally, too," Ray said. "You've got fingerprints off anything?"

"I found a gun!" someone shouted from the back. Ray raced over to the back door, following a young female officer to a dumpster. "The gunman put it in this box, here." Ray looked in the tissue box she held up, picking up the gun with a gloved hand.

"See if it matches the bullets in Mr Lewis, shall we?"

*

"Canadian-manufactured bullets, Canadian victim, and a murder weapon reported stolen from a police officer in Canada two months ago," Welsh recapped. "Is it too much to guess it's a Canadian killer?" Ray shrugged as he followed his lieutenant thru the precinct.

"We don't have too many Canadian criminals in this city," Ray said. "None that I know of, at least."

"Well, why don't you take it to our resident experts on Canada and go see what the Canadians have to say about it," Welsh suggested, shutting the door to his office in Ray's face.

"It's not a bad idea," Ray muttered to the door. He turned, leaving the station and hopping into his car. When he arrived at the Canadian Consulate, he saw Turnbull standing sentry outside. He greeted the Mountie quickly, going inside to talk to Fraser.

"Detective," said Meg Thatcher cooly as he neared the white door Fraser was behind. She walked down the small hallway to Fraser's tiny office, standing in front of him with a condescending smile. "Here to drag away my liaison officer on one of your misadventures?"

"No, I've got a dead Canadian shot three times by Canadian bullets with a gun stolen from a Canadian," he said. "So the misadventure is actually a case of mutual interest this time."

"Ah," she said, clearly surprised and taken back. "Well, you have the full resources of the Consulate at your service in that case. Go on in." He nodded and moved to the door. "Oh! Give these to Constable Fraser, tell him I expect them as soon as possible." She passed him three thick manilla folders and left to go back into her office.

"Fraser, I need your help," Ray said, slamming the files down on the small desk.

"Alright," Fraser said easily. "What's going on?"

"Got a case," Ray said. "Can you run a record check on a guy named Matt Lewis?"

"Well, I can't access American records—"

"He's a Canadian," Ray explained. He sat in the chair across from Fraser, noticing Dief was lying in in the slightly-ajar closet. "We can't access your Canadian records."

"I see. Then I can run that check," Fraser said, turning to his computer. His hands immediately began flying across the keyboard in a rapid fashion. "Oh dear."

"What? What is it?" Ray asked, leaning over and trying to read the tiny writing on the screen.

"Well, Matt Lewis has quite the record. It starts when he was fourteen, with a string of petty crime charges finally landing him in a juvenile detention school. He was clean until he turned nineteen, and now has three assault charges, one assault with deadly weapon, two attempted murder charges, and several charges of drug dealing in Calgary to his name. He's currently on bail during trial for assault and robbery with a deadly weapon as well as the murder of a Canadian police officer," Fraser recited. "Why do you need this man's record, Ray?"

"He was murdered in the billiard place across from your apartment today," Ray said. "The perp probably knew him, he came in like a man on a mission according to witnesses. Had a red and black tattoo and left right after the shooting. Didn't take money or anything."

"But Mr Lewis wasn't supposed to leave the city, let alone the country to come to Chicago," Fraser said, looking over at Ray.

"Murderers often ignore the rules about bail, Fraser," Ray said dryly. "Ignoring bail restriction probably wasn't too high on his list of priorities."

"Ah." Fraser nodded, then frowned, leaning closer to the screen.

"What? What do you see?" Ray asked.

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing, but Jakob's name comes up here in the police notes, twice…"

"Your Jakob?" Ray demanded, surprise. Fraser nodded, typing rapidly once more. After a few moments, he fell back against his seat, frowning. "I thought the sum of his record was the night you arrested him for reckless driving."

"So did I," Fraser said. "But it would appear Jakob may have been involved in the drug dealing in Calgary. He was arrested for possession of dextromethamphetamine with intent to traffic. He was exonerated of that, however, he has two reckless driving arrests in addition to my arrest. His license was revoked last year." Fraser lifted his hands off the keyboard and rubbed his palms together worriedly.

"Possession of what?" Ray asked. Fraser had been speaking very fast and it was rare Ray heard the proper name of a drug, he didn't recognize it.

"Crystal meth, Ray," Fraser said. "They must have been mistaken, Jakob wouldn't get himself involved with anything like that." He looked over at Ray, his blue eyes confused. Ray nodded.

"Of course not," Ray agreed. His mind flashed on Fraser's certainty that Victoria was innocent of Jolly's murder only two years ago. Ray mentally kicked himself for it. He himself was wrong about suspects constantly, and the one time Fraser was wrong it makes Ray doubt his judgement of all his close friends? That was unfair of him. He'd gotten to know Jakob a bit during his stay in Chicago and he did seem to be a straight-shooter, a genuine good guy. Ray didn't think the charges could be legitimate either.

"Maybe we should ask Jakob if he knew this man," he suggested. Fraser nodded.

"It would be our lead," he acknowledged. "Those files you dropped off—"

"Inspector says they can wait," Ray said.

"Ah. Well, then, let's find Jakob, shall we?"

"Don't you know where he is?" Ray asked. "What does he do all day while you're at work?"

"I've no idea, Ray," Fraser said with a shrug as he stood. He tugged to bottom of his tunic, straightening it unnecessarily. It was always perfect, as balanced and in check as the Mountie's emotions. "He doesn't talk about it."

"What do the two of you talk about, then?" Ray asked. Fraser shrugged again as Ray exited his office.

"Life, I suppose," Fraser answered simply.

"Life. That really narrows it down, thanks, Fraser," replied Ray sarcastically.

*

Fraser sat at the table of his apartment. Ray was asleep on the bed, finally ceasing his complaints about the conformability of the mattress. Fraser looked at Dief as he whined softly.

"What?" he asked. "Yes, I know, you like Jakob, but you and I both know that's mostly because he slips you junk food. I don't think he'll even know the man."

"Well, perhaps not fat, but you're definitely a bit soft, Diefenbaker," Fraser said. Dief whined again. "What do you expect me to do about that? If you have to pee, just run down the fire escape. I've to wait on Jakob." Diefenbaker sniffed as tho hurt Fraser wouldn't accompany him. "I've to wait for him! If something happened to him you'll feel badly you were so petty about it, you know." The wolf didn't respond, just hopped out the window and down the fire escape. "Baby," Fraser muttered. He picked up his father's journal, beginning to read, the first entry nearly a month after his mother had died.

I've heard most people who lose family when they're young say they didn't understand what was wrong, where the person had gone. But my Benton wasn't like that. He knew death, he understood it without experience. When Caroline and I sent him away when she knew she was nearing the end, he said goodbye the way he usually did when we sent him to stay with his grandparents for a while. But at the end of his usual mushy goodbye, he kissed his mother's feverish hand and told her he'd remember her always.  
Somehow, at the age of six, he knew he'd never see his mother again, and the next time he'd be in Fort Good Hope would be for her funeral. He understood what I meant when I told him his mum had "passed away". He told me, all of six, that I didn't need to sugarcoat it like his mum used to. Perhaps I shouldn't have told Caroline off for doing that so often. I understood now, too late, what she meant when she said Benton shouldn't know the truth yet. I wish my son could hope to see his mum again, if only for a little while before he understood. I think I may have cursed him by turning him into a man so soon.

The door banged open. Fraser looked up and saw a very ruddy-faced Jakob standing in the doorway. "Welcome home," Fraser greeted. Jakob muttered something unintelligible, shutting the door with dramatic quietness. "Jakob, do you know of a man named Matt Lewis? He lived in Calgary."

"Yeah, I knew Matt. He was a bad guy I lived with for a while in Calgary," Jakob said. "When I found out he'd tried to kill a cop I moved out. But he was my friend, you know, I thought he was alright, I'd leant him my car a couple times. I got pulled over a week or so, you know, after I moved out. And the officer found a bag of meth in the glove box, but it wasn't mine. I didn't even know what is was." Fraser nodded. He had looked around his neighbourhood for Jakob earlier in the day, but he'd proved hard to find. And to top it all off, Fraser could smell the acrid stink of cigarettes, bourbon and something he couldn't recognize from his position at the kitchen table. Jakob stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to kick off a sneaker.

"Why'd they pull you over?" Fraser asked. Jakob succeeded in getting his shoe off and began to struggle against his jacket.

"Who?"

"The police, when you were caught with meth."

"Oh, I was speeding, same way I was the night you arrested me. Reckless driving!" he said with a drunken laugh. "I was doing one twenty on a highway! Not reckless, unless you count the construction crew beside me when I got yanked, eh?" Fraser stood from his seat and moved to help his drunken friend with his jacket. Jakob stumbled over air and clutched Fraser's collar tightly, giggling in a fashion unbecoming of a grown man, preventing Fraser from taking his jacket.

"You smell like gun powder," Fraser remarked as he noticed traces of blood on Jakob's wrists. "What were you doing today?"

"I spent the afternoon at Tony's Grill eating then I went drinking!" Jakob laughed. "You know, you know I've been having a few, Benton Fraser, and you know I had some more after my few. Help me to bed, like a pal, will ya?"

"Sure, Jakob," Fraser said, remembering all the nights in Moosejaw when Jakob had returned to their apartment after a night at the bar. Every night, Fraser would help him out of clothes and help him to bed as Jakob babbled harmless nothings. "Let's take off you jacket and tuck you in, OK?"

"Leave the jacket," Jakob muttered. Fraser shook his head as Jakob began teetering towards his own bed that now rested near Fraser's window.

"It's your favourite jacket, you'll ruin it if you sick up in the night," Fraser said, the argument an old one he always won with his friend. Jakob had had that leather jacket as long as Fraser could recall. "Sit on your bed, I'll pull it off you before you can say—" Jakob's fist lashed out and struck the corner of Fraser's mouth, sending him stumbling back.

"Leave it!" he snapped. Fraser touched the back of his hand to his mouth, surprised to see blood there when he drew it away. "Oh, geez, Ben, I'm sorry!" Jakob cried, drunkenly moving over, tipping over and falling to the ground. He landed with an unpleasant smack on his back. Fraser bent to help his friend up, halting when a glint of black metal caught his eye. He pulled the edge of his friend's leather jacket back, dismayed to see a gun there, tucked in an inner pocket. Even if Jakob had the gun legally despite his reckless driving charges, Fraser doubted he was licensed to carry it in the States.

Fraser sighed. He stood, moving to wake Ray up. Legally, he couldn't carry a gun either. One unlicensed man couldn't very well rightly take a gun from another unlicensed man, even if one unlicensed man was a Mountie. He heard the sound of Jakob trying to stand, but he knew Jakob, he knew his low tolerance for alcohol and his love for large quantities. Ray could easily get the gun away before inebriated fingers figured out the complex item of the trigger. Before his hand made it to shake Ray into wakefulness, a hard metallic blow fell on the back of his head, and Fraser was unconscious before he hit the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

Ray was awoken by a deaf wolf on his chest, pushing his spine into the rocky mattress below him.  
"God, Diefenbaker, what do you want?" Ray demanded, opening his eyes. He was greeted by a starry sky outside the dingy window of the living room. "It's the middle of the freaking night!" The wolf didn't reply (And Ray felt a little crazy for expecting the wolf to) but merely hopped to the ground. Ray rolled over and saw why he had been woken.  
"Fraser!" he cried, jumping off the bed and kneeling by his friend and a concerned wolf. Diefenbaker licked the back of Fraser neck and Ray reached out, touching the back of Fraser's head. He could feel sticky half-clotted blood just above the base of his spine, a little bit of blood having dripped onto the floor. "Fraser?" Ray asked. Pushing on a shoulder, he rolled Fraser onto his back, surprised to see a smear of red blood at the corner of his mouth as well. He could see the superficial cut and beginnings of bruise, however; he knew it wasn't internal. Thank god. He shook his friend lightly.  
Blue eyes popped open, and then shut; a small, groaning complaint rolling from Fraser's mouth.  
"You OK?" Ray asked. Fraser nodded, using Ray's offered arm to sit.  
"My head aches," he said vaguely. "What happened?"  
"I don't know, Dief woke me up. "Don't you remember?" he asked. Fraser shook his head, touching his cut. He seemed surprised he couldn't remember, as surprised as Ray felt. "Tell me what you do remember?"  
"You were asleep… Diefenbaker left to relieve himself and I was reading one of my dad's journals," he replied. "I don't even remember finishing the entry. Is there anything missing?" Fraser stood, checking the lock on his footlocker. Ray was surprised to see it pop off. Fraser opened the lid and then shut it a moment later. "My gun's missing." He sat on the footlocker and rubbed his forehead.  
"Your gun?" Ray repeated. Fraser nodded. "I'll call it in. But you see? This is why people have locks." Fraser held up the padlock that usually held the footlocker shut with as close to a sarcastic glare as he could get while being polite. "Oh, right. Was your gun box locked?"  
"Yes, Ray," Fraser said. "The entire box is gone. I don't have any bullets, so whoever took it won't have any until they get some themselves." He frowned. He stood, swaying slightly, then checked the trunk again, frowned upon opening it.  
"What else is missing?" Ray asked.  
"My hunting knife is gone, too," he said. "Whoever came thru was looking for weapons. They left my hunting rifle, however."  
"So we have someone in your neighbourhood running around with a knife, an unloaded gun and the key to your foot locker?"  
"I actually think the lock was picked," Fraser said. "The lock has a few new scratches on it." Fraser sunk back down to sit on the footlocker in a manner that complained of dizziness. "Can you report the missing things for me?"  
"Sure thing, Benny," Ray said. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital? You were bleeding pretty badly, and you were unconscious for who knows how long." Fraser shook his head no.  
"Worst I can be is concussed, and the only thing the doctors could do is tell me to take it easy, and I'm certain you'll insist on that in any case," Fraser said, placing his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. "There's no point in a trip to the ER that neither of us truly want to make."  
"Sure. Jakob back yet?" he asked.  
"He doesn't appear to be," Fraser said, not looking up. "I'll ask him about Matt Lewis when he gets in."  
"Where is he?" Ray muttered, grabbing his jacket from the table and sliding it on. "Keep an eye on Fraser for me, Dief." The wolf blinked an affirmation and trotted over to his master, resting a furry chin on his knee.

"Where were you last night?" Fraser asked as he walked to lunch with Jakob. Jakob smiled, cocking an eyebrow.  
"I met a lady friend for some fun," he said. Fraser felt his face burn lightly.  
"Ah," he said simply. Jakob laughed.  
"Ah? A simple ah upon finding out one of your best friends is a simpleton who loves sex?" he questioned.  
"Ah upon having nothing constructive to say," he corrected. "I suppose it's a good thing you were out all night, we were robbed."  
"That what happened to your face?" Jakob asked, lightly brushing a finger over the bruise resting on the corner of Fraser's mouth. "What'd they take?"  
"My gun," Fraser said. At Jakob's confused look, he continued, "They picked the lock on my trunk and took it. I don't remember the thing at all. I was knocked out."  
"You're alright, tho?" Jakob demanded, standing in front of Fraser as he tried to open the door to the diner they were headed for. Hands raised up and fingertips brushed over the clotted cut upon his neck as a calloused thumb traced Fraser's jawbone lightly. "You're alright?"  
"Yeah, Jake, I'm fine," Fraser murmured. He leaned in a bit, and Jakob grinned, tilting to kiss him—A man tapped on the glass of the door they were blocking and pushed by them once they moved aside.  
"Queers," the man of fifty muttered as his attaché case banged Jakob's knee. Both men ignored it and went into the diner. As soon as the hostess ceased flirting with the two of them and had them seated they continued their conversation.  
"You almost never call me Jake," Jakob said when they sat. Both of pairs of hands folded over the menus on the table, itching for contact but neither willing to acquiesce.  
"You almost never admit how you feel about me," Fraser countered. If he was braver, he would have slid his hand over past the ketchup and mustard to touch the back of Jakob's tanned hand. But he wasn't brave when it came to matters of the heart, he was too afraid of Jakob to make the first move.  
"That's true," Jakob softly said. "But in my defense, I showed it to you quite often back then. We needed that door or it would've scarred the neighbours."  
"Did it mean as much to you as it did to me?" Fraser asked. Jakob reached out and took his hand. Fraser looked down on it. Jakob's skin was much darker than his, but his was rougher, more calloused from years of hard living. Jakob hiked and portaged like the rest of them, but had also lived in a big city for the better part of the last three years.  
"I thought so," he said. "You do know that I l—" A waiter appeared out of no where and Jakob snatched his hand back. They both opened the menus and ordered the first things they saw. Neither of them moved to reinstate contact. This was the way it had always been with them. By the time one of them made a move, life would interrupt and they would loose the connection so tentatively built.  
"I meant to ask you last night about someone named Matt Lewis," Fraser said, taking a sip of his water as he watched Jakob. His dark eyes looked down.  
"He was my—roommate for a while in Calgary," Jakob said. "He and I were pretty close, until I found out he tried to kill a cop. I moved out and never saw him again."  
"You were caught with meth in your car around that time as well," Fraser stated. Jakob had avoided his gaze when he declared how he knew Matt. Jakob couldn't have a reason to lie about knowing the man, only how he knew him. Were they involved? Jakob had skipped out on him to move to Calgary—was this Matt Lewis why? Did it matter?  
"Yeah, it was Matt's car, technically. The deed was in his name at least," he said, fiddling with his fork. "But I was driving on the fast side, and the cop found it in the glove compartment. I got off. What is this about? How do you know about Matt?"  
"He was murdered yesterday afternoon, across the street from the apartment," Fraser said. "In the billiards place." Jakob opened his mouth to speak then shut it, frowning.  
"Why was he in the States? I thought he was on trial," Jakob said. Fraser shrugged. He didn't know.  
"I've been assigned to his case, and, since you knew him," Fraser began.  
"You want to ask me who would want to kill him?" Jakob concluded.  
"Yes," Fraser said simply.  
"A shorter list would be who didn't want to kill him," he said. "He liked to hand out light eight balls, charge like it was pure. He pissed a lot of people off in Calgary and even in Toronto, where he got his stuff from, even tho they got a cut, so you can imagine how much he lifted for himself, eh? Plus he had a whole bunch of lovers going at the same time. Including me."  
"Well, that's your business," Fraser said after a moment, his voice much quieter than he would've liked. He didn't know how to process the news that one of the biggest loves he ever had had dated other men almost immediately after their breakup. It was better to leave it be for now, till after the murder was solved. "Where were you yesterday around one p.m.?"  
"I was at Tony's Grill till four plus five, you know, about five blocks from our place," Jakob said. "Then I met a lady friend and called you after I left her place today… I left you for Matt, you know. It was one of the worst decisions of my life, but I made it."  
"It doesn't matter, Jake," Fraser said quickly. "It was a long time ago—"  
"It was only three years ago. Did you move on? You don't have a boyfriend now, I would've met him by now," Jakob remarked. "I didn't even come to your dad's funeral, or call you and see if you were OK."  
"I was fine," Fraser insisted half-heartedly. He looked down, away from his friend.  
"Your dad had been murdered, you weren't fine."  
"How would you know?" Fraser demanded boldly. He looked up and met his friend's eyes. "You left me for someone who you admit wasn't a faithful lover when I could've made you so, so happy. I thought—" Fraser took a breath, trying to straighten his head. "—I thought we'd always, you know, it'd be forever. That's what you promised."  
"I know," Jake tried.  
"You have no idea. You say you were at Tony's until about four and then went off with some woman for casual sex?" he asked, regretting the edge to his voice, the loss of his emotional control. Jakob nodded, touching Fraser's hand. He snatched it away. "Forget about it, I have to go. I'll see you at home tonight."

Fraser had gotten home at seven, finishing work at six as per the usual. He'd been delayed a half hour by Inspector Thatcher's request for more detail on the Lewis case. He'd filled her in on most of it, successfully avoiding stating personal elements (that he had been abandoned by a lover for the deceased) and saying Jakob's supposed murder was something to do with mutual involvement in drug dealing.  
But as he neared his home after a long walk and a conversation with Diefenbaker, he could hear the faint sounds of radio ads and smell the scent of baking coming form his apartment. He pushed the door open and Jakob was standing at the counter, washing a plastic mixing bowl in the sink. He looked up as Fraser entered, his dark eyes passing over Fraser's solid built quickly. Stacks of brown, white-powdered squares sat on a plate upon the counter. Diefenbaker sniffed delicately at Jakob then proceeded to trot over to his dishes, where  
"I made lamingtons," he said.  
"You made lamingtons," Fraser repeated dimly. Jakob nodded, moving from the sink to Fraser.  
"Listen, about lunch today," Jakob began. Fraser shook his head, closing the door.  
"It doesn't matter," he deflected.  
"Yeah, it does," Jakob said. He stepped towards Fraser, very close to him. "Things are kinda confusing right now, and I know I'm not staying in Chicago long, but, I want you." Jakob touched the collar of Fraser's brown uniform lightly. "I want you to give me a second chance, to make you feel good, make it all better."  
Before Fraser could respond, Jakob was kissing him and his breath stopped, his heart fluttered and all of the pain caused by this man was forgotten in pursuit of that talented tongue. Fraser gasped against Jakob's rough lips, letting himself be pushed against the door. Fingers laced in his hair as he moved his own to roam down steely muscles of the other man's back. The hair at the back of his neck was yanked, forcing exposure of his neck, forcing vulnerability that caused a shiver to run down his spine. Jakob's lips attacked his neck, kissing and biting and creating wonderful sensations not felt for too long.  
"What do you want, Ben?" Jake asked, oscillating his hipbone against Fraser's hardness. He moaned, letting Jakob pull at his buttons as he pulled at the hem of the other's tee shirt. They began undressing each other in earnest, stumbling away from the door. "What do you want?" he repeated, lips against Fraser's ear.  
Fraser can't find words to answer and he's all but tossed onto the bed, Jakob pinning him down. "I know what I want, Ben. I want to control you, and you know I can."


	4. Chapter 4

"He says he was at Tony's, but I know that Tony always closes his diner on Tuesdays. His wife died on a Tuesday and he visits her gravesite every week with a bouquet of flowers. I can't imagine he would leave the restaurant open without being there to supervise. He's an old man and very set in his ways," Fraser explained. "But Jakob and I were speaking of a mix of business and personal things and I'm afraid the personal had me leaving the conversation before I could bring that problem up. I'd like for you to continue to question him if you so deem it necessary. I'm not objective enough to decide what to ask, what to do."  
"Wasn't he there when you went home last night?"  
"Yes, he was."  
"And didn't you ask him? What did you do?"  
"He made lamingtons," Fraser said.  
"Lamingtons?" Fraser nodded. It was clear Ray knew Fraser wasn't telling him everything but didn't press. A few moments passed in silence, each man absorbed in his own thoughts.  
"Does Jakob have a tattoo?" Ray asked suddenly.  
"Yes, he has several. Why do you ask?"  
"Can you describe them for me?" Ray asked. Fraser hesitated, the only sound the distant ringing of a phone somewhere in the near-empty station late at night.  
"He has a scorpion on his left hip, his brother's birthday and date of death on his left shoulder blade and an abstract drawing his brother had done before he died on the back of his neck, almost on his back," Fraser said. "Why?"  
"What colour is the one on his neck?" Ray asked. Upon hearing the answer, Ray slid Fraser the case file. Fraser adjusted his posture and began reading. Fraser was dismayed to discover Jakob fit perfectly with the description of the murderer. Fraser slid Ray the file. Ray slid it back. "What do you want to do? He's your friend."  
"Precisely," Fraser said. "It's clear he has no alibi, matches the description and is more likely than another man in the city who could match the description because he knows Matt Lewis. Objectively, he should be brought in. But I don't… I don't want." Fraser stopped talking, looking down from Ray's concerned gaze and shaking his head.  
"Does he have a motive, Fraser? What aren't you telling me?" Ray asked. Fraser nodded shortly. He had never had a close friend who was OK with the sort of thing that constituted this motive, and he hoped Ray would prove to be the one that was different.  
"He may have had a motive. Matt Lewis was unfaithful to Jakob," Fraser blurted. He rubbed his eyebrow as he waited for Ray's reaction. It didn't take long.  
"So they were together?" he asked. Fraser nodded. "How long ago were they together?"  
"Well, they started about three years ago and I'm not very sure when Jakob found out Matt was being unfaithful or when the two of them called it quits," Fraser answered. "But Jakob said the last time he saw Matt was when he found out Matt had tried to kill a police officer. So it stands to reason that they were together until approximately six months ago. It can't have been to long ago."  
"So revenge on an unfaithful lover combined with issues over dealing, that's a solid motive, let's pick him up," Ray said, standing. Fraser stood as well, following him.  
"We don't know if he was involved in any sort of criminal activity—" Fraser began. Ray turned to look at him.  
"Look, Fraser," Ray said. "This guy's your friend, I don't want to put you in an awkward situation. From what little I know about him, and what I know about you, I'm guessing he is or was more than a friend, right?" Fraser nodded. Ray sighed, moving a bit closer after checking to see no one was listening in. "Maybe you should sit this one out then. I wouldn't indite an ex of mine. I'll go find Jakob MacCrae and you go get Thatcher and tell her she needs come help question this guy. And keep it on the down low. Not a lot of guys around here would hesitate to beat a queer with a bat, even one as good a person as you. Be careful with that bit of information." Fraser nodded once more.  
"I will be."

Ray watched the interrogation from the observation room with Fraser beside him, Inspector Thatcher and Lieutenant Welsh inside with Jakob MacCrae. Fraser seemed tense, arms folded and eyes slightly narrowed as he watched his friend inside.  
"We need to know where you were the day Mr Lewis was killed," Welsh repeated. Jakob banged a hand on the table.  
"I told Ben this stuff already! I was at this place called Tony's Grill, it's like five blocks from where I'm staying—" he began.  
"You're certain?" Thatcher asked.  
"I know where I was, yeah," Jakob snapped.  
"That establishment was closed that day," Thatcher said. Jakob halted, swallowing nervously, pulling at an ear with his tanned hand. "You don't have an alibi and you match the description of the man who shot Mr Lewis."  
"I have no reason to want to kill Matt," Jakob said. "I wanna talk to Ben."  
"Mr Lewis left methamphetamine in your car, you were arrested. We could say you wanted revenge for being framed," Welsh said. "That could stand up in court even without the more personal aspects we've been made aware of."  
"I was acquitted of that, it shouldn't even come up on my record," Jakob defended. "And by "personal" you mean the fact we were fucking?" Ray tore his gaze from the callous Canadian behind the glass and settled it on his friend. Fraser turned away from the view of the interrogation room and ran his hand thru his hair. Ray could only imagine what was between the two Canadians, he only had so much information but he knew Fraser. He could see how this case reeked of betrayal for him. He knew when Fraser fell in love, he fell hard.  
Before Welsh or Thatcher could reply, Jakob continued. "It was just that, sex. Great sex, but I was never in love with Matt. We were friends with benefits, I'm certain you've known the arrangement yourself, ma'am. You're cold like that. Don't I get an attorney if you're accusing me of murder?"  
"Yeah, the state's assigning you one now," Welsh said, ignoring the very offended female at his side. "Let's talk about the two guns you were carrying when you were picked up. Shouldn't be carrying a gun in the States, let alone your Mountie friend's gun. I was certain it had been reported stolen, as well. We found traces of blood on the handle of your handgun, I'm certain upon testing it could be proven to be Constable Fraser's, from the wound at the back of his head. We're also running it thru ballistics. If it matches the bullet in Mr Lewis, we've pretty much got you boxed in here, Jakob. The only thing an attorney could do is convince you to plead guilty, I think."  
"Well, I'm certain I'll be OK since I didn't shoot no body. I wanna talk to Ben," he said. He had obviously tried to speak with conviction, but Ray could hear a slight tremor in his voice and he was certain Fraser could as well.  
"Constable Fraser is no longer on this case, he can't speak to you in an official capacity," Thatcher said.  
"I want to talk to him in an unofficial capacity then, without you guys listening in," Jakob said.  
"We can't promise that it will be completely confidential," Thatcher said. "If you're unwilling to be questioned until your attorney arrives, I suppose you'll have to wait in holding."  
Thatcher and Welsh left the room, no doubt to leave Jakob to sweat a while before sending in an officer to take him to holding.  
"I misjudged him, it seems," Fraser said softly. Ray looked over at the Mountie, who was staring resolutely at his casually-dressed feet. Off duty, the collar of his tee shirt fell lower than the collar on his serge, and Ray could see the faint fadings of a violent hickey upon Fraser's neck. "When we first met, I thought he was gentle. And when I fell in love with him, I thought he was trustworthy."  
"It happens," Ray said, knowing his comfort was empty. "We're all wrong about some stuff."  
"To be so wrong about a man you know so well, tho, Ray?" Fraser asked, leaning against the wall. "He wasn't gentle or trustworthy and then he left me. No warning, I didn't even know if he was alive. It was like he fell off the face of the earth."  
"He left you? Why?" Ray asked. He was only a friend, but he couldn't fathom a circumstance in which he could disappear, without warning and leave Fraser hurt and confused and wondering.  
"He left me for Matt Lewis, so apparently he left merely for better sex," Fraser said bitterly. The door creaked as it opened. Fraser automatically straightened as his superior officer entered the small room, the small amount of emotion on his face disappearing.  
"Alright, Constable," Inspector Thatcher began, standing close enough to Fraser to even make Ray's personal space uncomfortable. "You know this man. Is he capable of murder?"  
"I can't honestly say that I know, sir," he replied.  
"Can't honestly say? Constable, what kind of non-answer is that?" she snapped. "Are you intentionally being dense? I want details."  
"No, sir, I am not trying to be thick-headed," Fraser offered. Ray had never seen Fraser and Thatcher interact directly before and he found himself shocked at two things. Firstly, how the cold hate just radiated off Thatcher towards her staff member, and secondly, how Fraser was completely out of control. He was obedient and respectful as the come when the Lieutenant, another superior or even when Ray gave him an order, but Ray also knew Fraser was capable of telling Welsh no if an order was illegal or immoral. He doubted Fraser would find it within himself to say no to Thatcher, however.  
"Then answer the question," she ordered.  
"I'm afraid I can't," Fraser said. "Certain facts have been presented that have distorted my opinion of Jakob, not to mention my own personal conflict with this investigation."  
"He did pull himself off the case," Welsh put in, trying to head off the increasingly frustrated Inspector. "He shouldn't be involved in this conversation."  
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Thatcher said cooly. "Fraser, what personal feelings could possibly cloud your judgement? You've participated willingly and objectively in many cases that held emotional ties."  
"Feelings of a romantic nature, sir," Fraser answered, voice as quiet as it could get without mumbling a response to a superior's question.  
"Romantic feelings?" Thatcher repeated. Welsh tensed at the shift of tone in Thatcher's voice in time with Ray. Ray moved closer to Fraser's at-attention back, prepared to pull him out of the way if the cold fury in Thatcher's eyes manifested itself physically. He knew the Inspector had "feelings of a romantic nature" towards Fraser, and her dislike of him stemmed from his obviousness.  
"Yes, sir." A very pregnant pause floated thruout the room. Ray exchanged a worried look with Welsh. Thatcher was aloof and professional as they came, but everyone knew she fancied Fraser. She glared at any woman who flirted with Fraser within her earshot, to hear straight from his lips that he was involved with another man must drive her barmy. If Ray had been directly and indirectly chasing a woman, only to find she wasn't swinging the same way as him, he'd be miffed she never mentioned it. A woman of political slaughter and emotional extremes was dangerous if potentially offended. Thatcher was that offended woman.  
"And that—" she gestured thru the glass at Jakob "—is responsible for that hickey on your neck, then, I take it." Fraser nodded, blushing. "Do try and be more discreet about that sort of thing. I don't wish to see any physical evidence of your after-hours liaisons, you know that. Who you're involved with is, is your business, but to have my second-in-command dating a man—a man in poor legal standing—" she corrected herself quickly "—is indeed a black mark against my Consulate. Maintain our right, Fraser."  
"Understood," Fraser said quietly, looking down as much as he could while standing at attention.  
"See if you can get him to admit to anything before we take him to holding. Dismissed, Constable." Fraser nodded and rushed out of the room. Ray began to follow his friend, but Welsh held him back.  
"MacCrae isn't going to be open if you're there, Vecchio," Welsh said. Ray gave him a shocked look behind Thatcher's back. That was an angry exchange, Welsh's eyes agreed. Ray realized he was extremely lucky his lieutenant never spoke at him so cruelly.

Jakob knew they'd send Ben in to talk to him before sending him to holding. The Canadian fox and the old American would be sitting behind the mirrored glass, waiting to eavesdrop. Ben would believe anything he said, he knew, but the others wouldn't believe anything. The door opened, and sure enough, Ben stood there.  
"Did your boss say anything about that hickey?" he asked with a short joking tone, not moving from his seat at the table.  
"Yes," Ben said quietly. Jakob ditched his jovial act, trying to figure out how he could milk Ben's logical brain for an explanation of his whereabouts, hoping Ben could accidentally provide him an alibi.  
"And they sent you in here to get me to confess?" he assumed. Ben nodded, moving further into the room. He didn't sit, but he stood near Jakob, at the foot of the table, near enough that Jake could smell that clean, woodsy smell that was all soap and then just Ben. If he could smell Ben, he could only imagine how potent his own scent seemed to the Mountie. "You do believe me, don't you, Ben?"  
"I want to," his old boyfriend murmured, blue eyes tracking Jakob's movements as he moved his chair back from the table, so he could stand at a second's notice.  
"Then believe me. Convince your buddies to let me go," Jakob said. Ben gave him an arid look.  
"You know I can't do that, Jake. I'm off the case, I can't do anything for you but be, be a friend now," he said quietly, stumbling slightly over his words and finishing rather lamely. "And with what's happened, I'm not sure I can even do that."  
"You're off the case, but they can send you in here to talk me into or out of something?" Jake asked. He laughed softly. "You're in love with me, for Christ's sakes! How can you not be sure?" He realized his voice was rising a bit. Good, he figured. Emotion was good. He knew, as the others seemed too, that it was very hard to lie to Ben. Partly because he held such faith in you and partly because he knew. Emotions like the ones they shared would unnerve and embarrass him in presence of his superiors. "All the time it's like this! You're so aloof and superior." He was standing now, yelling in Ben's face as the other tried to get a word in.  
"I don't try to be—"  
"You never get angry, it's like arguing with a wall. You say you love me and then chase some litterbug twenty kilometers and then jump off a cliff to catch him, never thinking about the heart attack it gives me to not know if you're OK! Why do you think I left? Jesus, Ben, this is what's wrong with you! Logic and fact, you don't feel anything, or if you do, you never show it. So polite, but can't dare stand up for yourself! Everyone deserves courtesy but you!"  
"I—" Jakob pushed angrily at Ben's strong shoulders, the slightly-shorter man stumbling back only half a step.  
"Even now, I'm freaking out at you, your bosses are probably eavesdropping and you won't even tell me to shut up! I dare you too!" Before Ben could say anything, Jakob continued, not even taking a breath. Delaying was a good thing, he needed to figure out a way to repair his busted alibi and yelling at Ben didn't fix his situation, but it certainly made him feel better about being cinched into a murder charge. He'd blamed his stash of meth on Matt, but he couldn't blame Matt's murder on Matt. No clear way out of this one. "Even when I come back into your life after fucking it up, you just welcome me with open arms, into your home—" he lowered his voice to a near whisper, loud enough the other room could hear, stepping closer to the Mountie. "Into your bed. You never stopped loving me. You can't see how bad I am for leaving you, all you see if my good. I'm all good, Benton. You want to believe me so… believe me. Why can't you do that simple thing?" Jake reached up, touching Benton's collarbone thru his shirt, fingertips brushing the love bite he'd given out the night before.  
"Because you broke my heart," Ben said quietly. "You told me so many times you'd never leave me, you promised me forever when we were in Moosejaw. And then you left me. Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities. It's because I love you I have to make a point to stay away from this case. You know that." Jakob shook his head angrily, pulling his hands back.  
"You aren't doing the right thing by stepping off, and you know it," he snapped. "You're just afraid if you get involved I'll be another Victoria. And you know you'd let me go. Admit it, you'd let me go!"  
"I can't admit it, I'm not in a position to enable or disallow your incarceration—"  
"You'd let me go if you could—"  
"I'd do my duty," he stated. His blue eyes held Jakob's brown ones, trying to convey an unknown message. "I swore to maintain the right of my country—"  
"We're in the States," Jake put in.  
"Same principle applies," Ben told him. "If you didn't do it, you don't need my help. If you did, then I can't provide it." Anger rose up in Jakob like a heated wave. Before he really knew what was going on, he had delivered a solid right hook to Ben's eye. Ben didn't stumble back this time—his head was frozen, shocked, maybe, in the position the punch's momentum had pushed it to. Almost immediately, Jakob felt an urge of regret.  
Hitting a member of the RCMP in front of police officers was not smart.  
"God, Ben," he said, moving towards him and placing his hands below Fraser's ears, on his neck. "I'm sorry, I lost my temper, I'm sorry—"  
The door behind them opened and Jakob was surprised to see Vecchio standing there. "Hands off," he said cooly. "We're taking you to holding now to wait for your attorney."  
Vecchio grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Ben. He held Jake's gaze but said nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

"You sure you're OK alone?" Ray asked before Fraser could climb out of his car late that night. The Mountie looked over at him, a miniscule frown forming on his face.  
"Why wouldn't I be?" Fraser asked. Ray shrugged. Maybe the fact your boyfriend got tossed into jail for killing somebody today?  
"I don't know… It was some heavy stuff today," Ray trailed off with a sigh.  
"In all honesty, Ray," Fraser began. "I'm very embarrassed by what you witnessed today, and I'd very much appreciate the chance to be alone. My exchanges with both Inspector Thatcher and with Jakob were highly personal, and too have them overseen by superiors—"  
"I'm not your superior, Fraser. You had a friend watching too," Ray offered, hoping the phrasing even made sense. Fraser nodded simply.  
"You are my friend, still?" the other man clarified, the uncertainty in his voice hurting Ray's ears.  
"Yeah, Fraser, I'm still your friend," he said. "Nothing will change that, not even this."  
"Everybody leaves eventually," Fraser murmured. "But I would still appreciate some time to myself. I'll see you tomorrow, I trust?"  
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Ray said, understanding. He'd probably avoid Fraser like plague if he had seen Ray being belittled and then hit by someone he loved. It was pretty embarrassing, not even accounting for the fact it was a man Fraser was involved with. And that, even tho Ray was mostly OK with it, was a whole other ball park. "You need some moping time."  
"I hardly intend to mope," Fraser corrected lightly, opening the car door.  
"Feel free to," Ray told him as he began to climb out. "You've earned it!"  
"Thanks, Ray," Fraser laughed. "I'll take it into advisement."  
Ray pulled away from the curb after Fraser entered his building. He began the familiar drive home on auto-pilot, turning over what he had seen and heard that day between Fraser and MacCrae.  
I thought he was gentle, Fraser's voice echoed. And when Jakob decked Fraser, he didn't seem too shocked… Ray shifted in his seat best he could while driving. The idea Fraser had been hit by this guy before didn't sit well with—His cell phone rang obtrusively, breaking the silence.  
"Vecchio," he answered.  
"Ray? It's Elaine."  
"Why are you calling my phone, not radioing me?" he asked, curious.  
"This is kind of… Not official, I guess," she said. "Um, that MacCrae guy you picked up? The one who hit Fraser today?"  
"What about him?"  
"His bail was paid, and he left about a half hour ago. I just thought you and Fraser should know," she said. Ray flicked his phone shut, tossing it onto the seat as he turned the car around. He glanced at the clock—eight minutes since he'd dropped Fraser off. That would've given Jakob twenty-two minutes to get into an empty, unlocked apartment. If he was even going to be there, Ray told himself. It was likely Ray would be racing to Fraser reading at his crappy kitchen table.  
His car came to an abrupt halt, and he leaped out of the Riv as fast as he could. Racing up the stairs, he could hear the panicked murmuring of Fraser's neighbours, never a good sign. He rounded the corner most were peering down at, pushing past Mrs Garcia. The door to Apartment 3J was closed, the sound of Jakob's yelling coming from inside, matched shortly by a shattering of glass.  
"Move," he ordered Mr Mustafi, hand on his gun as he made his way to the door.  
"Thank God you're here, Detective, I think there's something wrong inside the Constable's apartment!" the old man said. No shit, Ray thought, noting his presence was known within the room. He had hoped to surprise Fraser's attacker. Ray opened the door to the apartment and was greeted with a view of a Fraser, face bloodied and the rest of him not looking too good, held up mostly by the wall, Jakob, and the 38 revolver pressed to his throat as Jakob stood behind his strong frame, only a slightly bloodied lip to his boasting.  
"One more step into this apartment, and I shoot him," Jakob shouted, freezing Ray in his tracks, his own gun only half raised. A voice in the back of his head reminded him his gun was only half full, he'd neglected to replace the clip after his last case with Fraser. Six, maybe seven shots at best. "Drop the gun!" Ray heard the click of the hammer being pulled back, and he lowered his gun to the ground.  
"Relax, Jakob," Ray said, raising his hands a bit, trying to inch closer. He wondered why Fraser, even beaten up, wasn't trying to incapacitate or talk down Jakob. Scanning for serious injuries, he noticed one bloodied hand was pressed to a growing bloodstain settled in his left ribs, no doubt cause by the bloodied knife lying not three meters away. His other arm hung limp, useless for an unknown reason. A series of small lacerations rested on the right side of his forehead, like he'd been hit with a glass or thrust thru a window. Ray strained his hearing, and could hear Fraser struggling with the simple task of breathing.  
"I'm pretty fucking calm, you can't do shit while I've got the Mountie," he said, the gun jerking against Fraser's exposed and vulnerable neck as his arm muscles tensed, not calm. "Kick me the gun and shut the door, too." Ray kicked the gun over and shut the door without turning away from Jakob.  
"You're not going to shoot him," Ray said. To his surprise, Jakob simply shifted the revolver, firing into Fraser's shoulder. The Mountie screamed before biting down on his lip. Fraser couldn't hold himself up, only Jakob's hold kept him vertical. "What the fuck!" Ray screamed. "Don't hurt him, don't!"  
"It's his gun, this seemed the best way to return it," Jakob added, almost as an afterthought, unfazed by Fraser's predicament as he held the bleeding man against his chest like a morbid shield.  
"You robbed the apartment?" Ray asked, not having anticipated that revelation. Jakob laughed.  
"Good thing I know Fraser tends to loose about ten minutes of memory if you can get him unconscious in one hit, eh? One with the butt of my own gun and he was out for the count," Jakob growled.  
"Fraser give you that fat lip?" Ray asked, trying to formulate a plan to neutralize Jakob without getting Fraser more hurt. Jakob just shot Fraser in the shoulder! Not clipping him, the bullet was deep in the shoulder. All Ray's fault.  
"Yeah, he finally hit someone he loved, swore he'd never do that, didn't you, Ben?" Jakob asked, tapping the gun against Fraser's temple, clearly enjoying the power switch. "You didn't even hit Travis when that whole thing went down, did you?"  
"Who's Travis?" Ray asked, his mind already convinced it was an associate of Jakob's, another threat to Fraser and himself.  
"Tell him about that, Benton," Jakob purred, whispering into Fraser's ear in a sad mockery of a romantic nothing one would usually exchange with a kiss. "Tell him!' he snapped, lowering the gun for half a second to strike Fraser's lower bleeding chest wound.  
"My first love, I was nineteen," Fraser said, face white with pain. "I told you that in confidence, Jake."  
"Wrong detail to focus on right now," Jakob said. Ray took a step toward his gun, between him and Jakob now. Fraser had slumped quite a bit when Jakob had shot him; Jakob's distraction and Fraser's lowered posture might let him land a careful shot to the attacker's shoulder. "Ended badly, didn't it? Didn't it?!" Jakob used the tip the gun to push at Fraser's chin, forcing him to make eye contact.  
"Yes."  
"Yeah, he took advantage of you, Ben, worse than I ever did. Pretty sure it could pass as rape in nine provinces," he murmured. "But you didn't press charges, didn't turn him in. Why couldn't you let me off on Matt's murder then?"  
"I lived with the guilt of letting Travis get away with what he'd done, forsaking the ideal of justice, and I won't ever make that mistake again," Fraser panted. Ray had turned away, sickened, but he knew Jakob's fingers were digging into Fraser's injured shoulder and forcing speech and little pained sounds every now and then. Ray had witnessed Fraser being beaten up before; he never let on how much he hurt. How bad was it to make him make those noises that sounded like a scream too pained for volume?  
"How we gonna do this?" Jakob asked Ray, pointing his gun at Ray. Ray froze in his inching to his own gun.  
"Well, I could arrest you after you surrender, but I doubt that serves your purpose here," Ray said sarcastically.  
"Don't fuck with me, I've got your best friend at gun point, Detective!" Jakob barked, using his grip on Fraser's shirt to pull the Mountie up straighter, earning a slight, pained gasp from Fraser. "I don't want to kill him, but I can. You have to let me go, down the fire escape and away from here."  
"Let Fraser go first," Ray said. "Drop him, leave him here, you won't be followed. He wouldn't last long as a hostage, leave him with me."  
"Gladly," he sneered, pushing Fraser away sharply. All of Fraser's falling weight landed heavily on his injured shoulder, causing a scream that dropped Ray's heart into his stomach, curdling his very blood.  
He rushed over, dropping to his knees beside Fraser, who seemed to be struggling not to vomit.  
"Shit, Fraser, you OK?" Ray demanded.  
"Get me off this shoulder, I can't roll," the other man panted. He pulled Fraser off his shoulder completely, murmuring an apology for jostling his wounds, noting there was no exit wound behind Fraser's shoulder. Ray rolled Fraser onto his back quickly, pressing his hand to the gunshot wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He felt the joint give under the light pressure. Fraser's eyes rolled up in his head, gasping with pain. "That's dislocated," Ray stated uselessly.  
"Ray," Fraser needled. "Calling 9-1-1 would be very smart, preferably before I bleed to death." Ray nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket with a bloody hand, only to feel an absence of plastic and metal lifesaver. The image of the phone tossed on the seat of his car arrested in his mind, making him curse himself.  
"I'll get Mr Mustafi to call," he said, standing and rushing out. "I'll be right back, hang on, OK? Don't die on me, Fraser, OK? Don't."

"He was shot by Mr MacCrae, which led to his current condition?" Thatcher echoed. Ray nodded. The muted colours of Thatcher's office did nothing to calm anyone but her it seemed. How did Fraser report to this cold, calculating woman each day? She was like liquid nitrogen, her cold burned with its intensity, with a bandage of disapproval and disappointment, to boot. Ray felt himself yearning for the sarcastic demurring of his lieutenant. "And he was shot on your watch and in our presence, Detective?"  
"Jakob MacCrae was holding him at gunpoint, there wasn't much I could—" he began, only to be cut off by Thatcher.  
"Are not all police officers given a gun?" Upon Ray's affirmative reply, she continued, "Then why did you not take a shot at Jakob MacCrae?"  
"He was using Fraser as a shield, there was no shot," he said.  
"There's always a shot, Detective," she said coldly.  
"Yeah, if you can shoot a head of a pin or if your not concerned with killing a hostage," he muttered. She frowned at him like he was a troublesome child.  
"Why did allow Fraser into the apartment alone?" she asked. Ray looked away, shrugging unhappily.  
"I didn't assume Jakob would have managed to get bail, with the charges we laid on him," he said, knowing it was a poor excuse. Leaving that fact aside, Fraser was his friend, and he'd had his heart broken that day. He shouldn't have abandoned him in his crappy apartment regardless.  
"The whole situation and MacCrae's escape are result of your gross negligence, here, Detective," she snapped. "You're lucky you're not on my immediate staff. As it is, I've suggested to your commanding officer that you receive some sort of reprimanding action."  
"You suggested that?" he asked, surprised. He didn't know the Dragon Lady hated him that much.  
"Lieutenant Welsh disagreed, said you did fine," she said. Her words said just that, but her tone said: if I was your boss I would fire you and make sure you couldn't even work mall security. "In regards to Constable Fraser, the doctor's prognosis is a long and hopefully-close-to-full recovery?" she asked. He nodded. She sighed, turning back to paperwork and lifting a disgustingly expensive looking pen. "Dismissed."  
"Excuse me?" he demanded, frowning. She glared, tapping her pen once in annoyance.  
"Dismissed, Detective. Perhaps you could familiarize yourself with the term and action?"  
"I come here to tell you your deputy officer is seriously injured and will probably be spending the next few months of his life in pain rehabbing his arm and you have no message for him? Desire to visit? Any sort of emotional response?"  
"Constable Fraser works under me, that is all," she said. "He and I have no personal relationship, there is no need for me to visit or have a reaction."  
"With all due respect, ma'am," Ray interrupted, "you're a cold-hearted bitch to not care for Benny. You overwork him, criticize anything less than perfection, and treat him like dirt as compensation for finding him attractive. He's in the hospital, lucky to be alive, and your only concern is finding replacement for sentry duty!"  
"How else should I react?" she snapped. "He got himself nearly killed by being involved in a personal case, just like when Metcalfe was here! The RCMP wanted to give him a dishonorable discharge for loosing her—"  
"I accidentally shot him, he would've got her otherwise—" Ray tried, but she cut him off.  
"And now, how am I supposed to explain this injury to my superiors?" she said. "He was shot while not on duty, and not involved in the case at hand in the liaison department. Moreover, you're his next of kin so I have to pull strings to keep him here in Chicago! With the obscene costs of American health services, it would be cheaper to ship him to Canada for treatment in a taxi! Do you know how difficult keeping him here in hospital is for me? How bad this makes my Consulate look?" She sighed, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her forehead. "He's more trouble than he's worth. Dismissed, Detective," she said. He couldn't read her, he had no idea what she was feeling, and he honestly didn't want to know.  
"Shut the door on the way out."  
Ray slammed it.


End file.
